The Mark of the TARDIS
by time-converges
Summary: Travelling in the TARDIS has a profound effect on Donna. Written for the prompt from katherine b: "The TARDIS leaves a physical and distinctive mark on those who travel in her. How does Donna react to this?"
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Donna sat down on the bed, heedless of wrinkling the already ruined wedding dress, and kicked off her shoes in relief. She was suddenly exhausted, and every bone seemed to ache. She could hear the hum of her parents' voices out in the kitchen. Even without being able to make out their words, she knew what they were talking about. The wedding. The wedding that hadn't happened, because first she had disappeared, and then her fiancé had turned out to be conspiring with a giant spider to kill her. _Lance_, she thought with a pang of regret. She had been so stupid, so trusting. What had made her believe he had loved her anyway?

She twisted the ring on her finger – the simple gold band the Doctor had placed there to protect her. She hadn't worn her engagement ring, in anticipation of a different gold band taking its place. She was strangely reluctant to remove this one, after all that had happened. She remembered him slipping it onto her finger, his eyes crinkling as they joked, but she had seen the sadness there, thinly veiled.

"Well, she'll never get married now, after all this nonsense!" her mother's voice cut through her as she heard her mother pass by in the hallway. Her father's voice was a softer murmur, but she couldn't hear his response. She sighed and stood, walking over to where her jewellery box sat on her dresser. She lifted the lid and saw the ring Lance had given her sparkling where she had left it this morning. She touched it lightly with a finger, but didn't pick it up. She had been so happy when he had given it to her. She'd been so happy to show it off to her friends. He had lied to her, over and over. She closed the box with a snap, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

She fumbled with her watch, finally getting the clasp to release, and she set it down on the dresser next to the box. She couldn't bring herself to open it again. Her eye was caught by a small mark on the inside of her wrist, where the watch had been. She delicately traced a finger over the mark – a pattern of loops and whorls just barely visible, as though someone had pressed the pattern into her skin. Her fingertips tingled as they brushed over it. She frowned slightly, and walked closer to the lamp to get a better look. There was definitely something there, but it seemed to be fading even as she looked at it. She gave herself a mental shake. Now she was imagining things. Probably something that daft Martian did. Or a residue from those particles he had talked about.

Reaching around, she slid the zipper down on her dress and stepped out of it, leaving it in a puddle on the floor. She'd throw it out in the morning, she decided. She pulled a dressing gown on over her slip and sat down on the bed again. That daft Martian had saved her life, more than once. And he had shown her the beginning of the earth. She closed her eyes, and she could see it all again, as she stood next to him in the doorway of his marvellous ship --the dust and rock gathering to form the planet she stood on. The ship that had protected her when she had just marched down that ramp and flung open the doors, unaware they were in space. In space! She shook her head and opened her eyes.

The skin on her wrist tingled and she absently covered it with her other hand. She could feel the raised pattern against her palm as she cupped her hand over it. She curled up on the bed, pulling the duvet over her. Be magnificent, he had said. She didn't feel very magnificent now. Right now, she just felt worn-out and numb. But when he had said it, with that look in his eye, she had believed him. She had believed anything was possible.

She yawned. She was so tired, she'd just nap for a minute, she thought. She closed her eyes, and dreamed of the stars.


	2. Chapter 1: Partner

Donna slipped off her suit jacket and tossed it over the chair in her room. Her room, she thought with a thrill of happiness. The Doctor had told her she could choose any room she liked, and she had known as soon as she opened the door to this one that it should be hers. The pale purple of the duvet, and the soft cream-coloured armchair next to the bed seemed designed just for her. Not to mention the enormous wardrobe, where she and the Doctor had stowed all of her luggage, laughing and joking that she seemed to have packed for a lifetime. Then they had cooked dinner and sat and talked for hours, until finally he had insisted she get some sleep.

She rubbed her neck as she walked into the bathroom attached to her room. The lighting was soft and warm, and there were lots of fluffy towels awaiting her use. She opened the cabinet to find her favourite cleansers and lotions already in there, and she smiled. Perhaps this room had been designed just for her, she thought, and the lights flickered for a moment. She touched the wall lightly. "Thank you," she whispered, and the lights flickered again. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, one thought running through her mind: she had found him! After all the months and months of searching, just when she had despaired of ever seeing him again, she had found him! And he wanted her to come along with him. After all the madness of the day – waving at fat! – the thing she had hardly dared to hope had finally happened. She had found him, her silly spaceman with his marvellous ship, and she was back in the TARDIS.

She changed into her pajamas and padded barefoot over to the bed, enjoying the feel of the soft carpet under her bare feet. She sat cross-legged on the bed, tired, but unwilling to give in to sleep just yet. She looked around the room, at the softly-coloured walls, and the simple furniture, and sighed happily. She could see her luggage still piled in the wardrobe, but unpacking could wait. She leaned back against the pillows, and thought about all the places they might go, the things they might see, now that she had found him again. And Ancient Rome would be their first stop, she thought with a thrill. No dusty history books, but real people, just as they actually lived.

The skin on her wrist tingled, and she pulled back the sleeve of her pajamas to look at it. She gasped as she saw the pattern appearing – the slightly raised loops and swirls once again visible on the inside of her wrist. She touched it lightly, curious. The mark had disappeared soon after her day with the Doctor, so quickly she could almost believe she had imagined it. But now, here it was again, stronger than ever. She resolved to ask the Doctor about it in the morning.

She slipped under the duvet, and the lights dimmed. She thought she was too excited and keyed up to sleep, but she tucked her hand under her cheek and drifted off, dreaming once more of the stars. When the Doctor peeked in to check on her a few minutes later, she was already asleep.

But in the morning she forgot about the mark in all the excitement of travelling back in time to Rome. The Doctor grinned at her, bounding around the console, all uncontrolled energy and excitement. She felt a matching thrill of excitement mixed with nervousness as she turned to follow him down the ramp, ready to step out into the past.

And then, with the volcano and the Pyrovilians and Caecelius's family, she only barely noticed her wrist tingling as she pressed down on the lever with the Doctor, dooming Pompeii to save the world.

That night, she dreamt of ash and smoke, of being trapped, and she awoke with a shout. The Doctor appeared instantly in her doorway, shirtless, his hair dishevelled, barefoot in his pajamas.

"Are you alright?" he asked, not waiting for her answer before he was sitting next to her on the bed, reaching for her hand.

She shook her head, unable to speak, as the nightmare still consumed her. His hands were cool on hers and she clung to them as she tried to calm her breathing.

"It's okay, it was a dream," he said soothingly, reaching to pull her into his arms. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths as he rubbed her back gently, softly soothing her. She could hear his heartbeat racing under her ear, and she struggled to calm herself, knowing he was afraid for her. She slipped her arms around him and focused on his calming nonsense words. Finally she pushed back from him a little, swiping at the tears on her face, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said, but he didn't release her.

"It's okay, it's perfectly understandable."

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. "I must have been shouting pretty loud for you to come running in like that." She shifted slightly away, and he let his arms drop from her, instead taking her hands in his once again.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't hear you. The TARDIS woke me up, told me you were having a nightmare."

"The TARDIS told you?"

"Yeah. I told you she gets inside your head a bit," he said, apologetically.

"But you said that was for translating, stuff like that. She knows my dreams?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly. She knew you were in distress, so she sent me to help."

"Oh."

"Is that alright?" he asked gently, and she met his eyes again.

"Yeah," she said. "It's surprising, but it's okay. Thank you," she added, squeezing his hands.

He looked down at their joined hands. "I don't want you to be afraid," he said softly. He turned her hands over in his, then stopped. He released one hand and brushed lightly over the inside of her wrist, where Donna could see the mark was even more prominent. "Donna..." he breathed.

"Oh, I meant to ask you about that," she said, surprised at his reaction. His fingers trembled as they touched her wrist, and she was afraid. "I noticed it before, after I turned you down the first time."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide. She could see the shadow of stubble on his cheeks in the dim light. "Really?"

"Yes. I thought it might have been the huon particles or something, because it disappeared a day or so later. But I noticed it again last night." He traced his finger over the pattern again, and her skin tingled. "Doctor, what is it?"

"It's the mark of the TARDIS," he said simply. "She's marked you as hers." The lights flickered again, and Donna thought the background hum sounded louder.

"What? She branded me?"

He chuckled. "Not quite. She marks most everyone who travels with me, in some way or another. Not everyone, and not the same mark for everyone. The ones she's particularly fond of, she marks like this." He traced the pattern once more.

"So, you're saying your ship, what, likes me?"

"Oh, I think she's very fond of you indeed," he said with a grin. He turned his own wrist to face her, and she could see a similar pattern raised on the skin there. "It's nearly identical to mine, but not quite."

"What does it mean?"

He pointed to part of the pattern. "This part is your name, more or less, and the rest...it has a special meaning for her, let's just leave it at that." He took her hand again. "She likes you, and she wants you to stay. Is that alright?"

She looked around the room, and thought of this fantastic ship, taking care of her, being fond of her. It was bonkers, completely, but..."Yes, of course it is. I'm rather fond of her myself." The lights brightened and then dimmed again, and Donna thought the hum of the ship now sounded quite self-satisfied.

"Will you be able to sleep?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," she replied. When she closed her eyes she still saw the ash and rock falling, could smell the sulphur in the air.

"Do you want me to go, so you can try?"

She tightened her grip on his hand convulsively. "No, please. Stay, just talk to me a little while."

He nodded, and removed his hand from hers gently. She laid back against the pillows and he drew the covers over her before pulling the chair next to the bed so she could keep hold of his hand. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me—" she stopped, thinking. "Tell me about Gallifrey."

He linked his fingers with hers. "The citadel was enclosed in a glass dome, that shone against the orange sky," he began. She drifted off to the sound of his voice, and dreamt of orange skies, and silver-leafed trees, and walking hand-in-hand through lush red grass.


	3. Chapter 2: Protector

Donna fumbled a little with her new key to the TARDIS door, trying not to breathe in more of the disgusting air than she had to. She pushed through the door, closing it firmly behind her, before giving in to the urge to cough. She breathed in the clear, fresh air gratefully, as the coughing subsided, and tried not to think of the Doctor still out there with everyone else, breathing it in.

She held the key he had just given her in her palm, remembering his face when he had thought she was leaving, and his promises to her of the things he wanted to show her. She had let him ramble on, let him believe she would leave, curious what he would say. How could he have believed she would leave, especially now? She shook her head. Silly spaceman. But then he had given her the key, and happiness rose within her as she remembered. She slipped the key into her pocket.

The skin on her wrist tingled again, and she pushed aside the sleeve of her jacket to look at the now-familiar pattern. It was stronger than she could remember it, and she covered it with her palm, feeling the raised pattern once again against her palm The mark of the TARDIS, she thought. Her name, and something more. She wondered what else the symbols meant, and what they meant to the ship. The lights flickered, as the floor jolted beneath her. Startled, she grabbed the railing, but the movement stopped almost immediately. The ship's hum changed, and she looked up at the ceiling in alarm. They had moved, but how?

She turned toward the door, suddenly reluctant to open it, fearful of what might be outside. But she remembered her first day on the ship, and how the ship had protected her even when she had opened the doors to the vacuum of space. She took a deep breath, and walked down the ramp to the door.

Donna stood before her wardrobe, blindly looking at the clothes that hung there. She wanted to change – the jacket and jumper she had been wearing smelled of the poison gas still, and of her fear aboard the Sontaran ship. Only the Doctor's voice on the phone had anchored her, helped her control her fear of being abandoned there, lost. She had done it, though – saved herself, and the TARDIS – and the Doctor had saved her again at the last second, zapping her back to earth.

Now, she tried to decide what to wear to go visit her family again. She turned at the sound of a soft rapping on the door frame of her open door.

"Everything alright?" the Doctor asked. He hesitated in the doorway, and she could see the worry creasing his brow.

"Fine, just can't decide what to wear," she said lightly.

"Status quo, then," he said with a grin, and walked over to stand next to her. "You have too many choices."

"Says the man with an multi-story wardrobe," she replied, drily, but she smiled at him.

He ducked his head and grinned. "Fair enough."

She slipped her palm under her sleeve, covering the mark on her wrist. It was warm to her touch. He saw the movement and turned to her, taking her hand in his and turning her wrist up. He gently pushed back the sleeve of her jumper, his fingertips brushing over the pattern lightly.

"It's stronger," he said. He looked up to meet her gaze, but she couldn't read his expression.

"Yes, I thought so too."

He looked down at it, his expression solemn.

"Is that bad?" she asked finally, worried at his silence.

He shook his head. "No, not at all. I think she's feeling rather protective of you today."

She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "After being kidnapped by Sontarans, I suppose she would feel a little protective." She wanted to ask him what the other symbols meant, but she hesitated. He seemed so serious.

"Yes." He looked up at her again. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. You were brilliant, you know."

She felt her face grow warm. "I just did what you told me to do."

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. "You were brave, and brilliant, and you saved the TARDIS." He squeezed her hand. "You saved us all."

Before she could think of what to say to that, he released her hand and turned back to the wardrobe, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Why don't you get changed, and you can pop over to your mum's while I make sure the Sontarans didn't do any damage."

She nodded. "I'd like that."

He brushed his hands lightly over the clothes hanging from the rack, before finally choosing one and pulling it out. "What about this?" He turned to her, holding the blue blouse before him. "You look lovely in this."

She blushed a little, despite herself, and shrugged. "Sure, that one's fine," she said, taking it from him. "I won't be a minute," she added, when he didn't move.

"Oh, right, I'll just---be in the console room. If you need me." He added, before bolting for the door.

She shook her head as he closed the door behind him.

Donna changed quickly out of the flapper dress, choosing instead jeans and a simple blouse. She let her hair down, brushing it so it hung loosely around her shoulders. She stared at her reflection, trying not to think of the scene in the kitchen. She touched her lips lightly, remembering. She felt fear race through her again at the thought that he might have died, there, from something so ordinary as cyanide. She gave herself a mental shake and stepped back out into her bedroom.

As she did, her eye was caught by a new door, set in the wall opposite her bed. It matched the door to her bathroom, but she knew it hadn't been there earlier. Curious, she walked over to it slowly, then pressed her hand to the wood. The skin on her wrist tingled, and she looked up at the ceiling. "What are you up to?" she asked softly. The lights flickered.

She closed her hand over the handle, hesitating before she pushed it open. Where would it lead? She knew the TARDIS wouldn't knowingly put her in danger, so she took a breath and pushed the door open.

"Oh! It's you!" she said, when the opened door revealed the Doctor, his shirtsleeves rolled up, sitting in an armchair and holding the Agatha Christie book he had shown her earlier.

"Oh, hello!" he replied, looking at her over the top of his glasses.

"This door just appeared in my room—" she began, feeling a little silly.

He nodded and stood, putting the book down on the table next to the chair. "Yes, I saw it too. Come in, it's alright. I think the TARDIS is playing games with us."

"Oh." Donna stepped further into the room. "Your room wasn't always next to mine, was it?"

He shook his head with a grin. "No, she's moving rooms around again." He slipped off his glasses and put them down on top of his discarded book. Donna made a mental note to remind him where he had left them when he went looking for them later.

"Are you hungry? I could make us some dinner?" she asked, feeling suddenly awkward standing there in his room. She tried not to remember kissing him earlier, and the spark she had felt despite the anchovies and ginger beer.

He grinned. "I'd love it," he replied.

She paced restlessly around her room, picking up and then setting down items one after another. If she stopped to close her eyes, she saw his face as he had looked when he had walked off of that shuttle back on Midnight. So lost, so broken. She had wanted to hold him forever, until that look disappeared. And then he had told her all that had happened, trapped there on that unforgiving planet, separated from her. She should have gone with him, she thought for the thousandth time. He shouldn't have been out there alone.

She heard the shower turn off in his room, and she waited for him to appear in the connecting doorway, but as the minutes ticked slowly by he didn't. He had said he wanted to shower, to wash away the smell of the shuttle, the pain of the day, so now she waited for him again. The hum of the ship changed, and she turned quickly to the door again, but it remained closed. Should she check on him? How long had he been in there? She couldn't be sure. The TARDIS hummed at her again, more insistently, and the door popped open on its own.

"Alright, I'll check on him," she said softly. "He won't like you meddling."

The lights flickered, then dimmed as she stepped through the door. He was standing next to his bed, his hair wet, barefoot, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. He was staring at the floor, but she could see even from across the room that he wasn't looking at anything.

"Doctor?" she said softly, not wanting to startle him. She saw his shoulders tense, but he didn't respond. "Doctor?" she repeated, as she walked slowly toward him. He turned to her as she approached, and her heart sank at the look on his face.

"Donna—" he said, his voice cracking. "I can still feel it."

"No, no, it's gone, it's gone," she said soothingly. "You're safe here, on the TARDIS." She reached out for his hand and he took it, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She was overwhelmed with the feelings of affection and protectiveness that washed over her, and she returned his embrace, holding him to her fiercely.

He buried his face in her neck and she could feel the dampness from his hair seep into her skin. She felt helpless to do something to ease his distress, so she just held him, waiting. His grip on her finally relaxed, and she felt his muscles loosen as she held him, softly stroking his back.

"You should sleep," she said finally. She could feel the exhaustion in him, in the trembling of his muscles. When he pulled back to look at her she could see the dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm afraid to close my eyes," he admitted.

"Don't be- I'll stay with you." She pushed him gently toward his bed and he obeyed, stretching out on his side. She lay down next to him, facing him, and he pulled the duvet over them both.

He shifted closer to her, and she caught her breath.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"I should have been with you," she blurted.

He shook his head against the pillow. "No – don't you know? Knowing you were safe—if you had been there? I can't even—" his voice diminished to a whisper, and she reached for his hand.

"It's okay, I'm here, we're both safe," she said quickly.

He lifted her hand and turned her wrist up. "The mark is stronger again," he said simply.

She looked down at it to find he was right, the shape had grown stronger. He turned his own wrist to face her, and she caught her breath again. The marks were nearly identical, and his had grown stronger as well.

"What does it mean?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

He touched her wrist lightly, tracing the pattern there. "This is your name, or as close as she could get in Gallifreyan." He shifted closer again, and traced another part of the mark. "This is me, my mark, my name, or part of it anyway." His finger kept moving, and her skin tingled at the touch. "This means 'bonded'," he continued, "and this is 'family'." He looked up at her, his eyes dark. "My mark is the same."

Her mind whirled with the implications of his words. "The TARDIS thinks we're married?"

He chuckled a little at that. "Not quite married, but bonded." He then surprised her by pressing a kiss to her wrist, sending a jolt of arousal through her. He tugged her closer, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face, finally settling his hand on her hip. "Aren't we?" he asked quietly.

"What are you saying?" she asked, breathless. She let her own hand rest at his waist and she felt her heartbeat speed up.

He didn't answer, just lowered his face to hers, hesitating only a fraction of a second before brushing his lips against hers. When she didn't pull away, he kissed her again, more firmly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and he made a small sound before she opened to him and deepened the kiss. It was much better without the anchovies, she thought, before she stopped thinking for awhile.


	4. Chapter 3: Healer

_(Note: Some Borrowed Dialogue)_

Donna pounded helplessly on the TARDIS doors. The Doctor was out there, with the Daleks, and she couldn't bear to be left behind. "Doctor!" she called. "What have you done?" She tugged at the handle, tears of frustration and fear burning in her eyes.

She heard him, just outside, and felt him rattling the door handle. "It wasn't me, I didn't do anything!"

She shouted, pounding her hands on the door. "Oi! Oi, I'm not staying behind!" Please, no, she thought. Not like this, not now. "Doctor!"

She heard, speaking to the Daleks, and she could hear the fear in his voice. "Stop it! She's my friend. Now, open the door and let her out."

"This is Time Lord treachery!"

" Me? The door just closed on its own!"

The Dalek replied, in its strange, metallic voice, "Nevertheless: the TARDIS is a weapon and it will be destroyed."

_No!_ She thought frantically, as the floor tilted out from under her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She grasped for the railing and felt a sharp pain as her arm banged against it before she could get a grip. "Doctor!" she called, but she knew he was gone, perhaps lost to her forever. The floor tilted again, slamming her against the railing as fires began to erupt from around the console.

The ship, she had to save the TARDIS, she thought, as she stumbled to the console, narrowly avoiding the flames that danced around it under the grating. The ship tilted wildly again as she touched the console. _Tell me what to do!_ she thought frantically, but the ship was silent, apparently as powerless as she was. There was another lurch that did knock her off her feet, and she landed hard on her hands and knees under the console, next to the softly glowing jar that held the Doctor's hand.

Time seemed to slow as she looked at it, and she suddenly knew what she needed to do, as though someone were whispering instructions to her. _Save us, save yourself_, the voice whispered. She reached out her hand, shaking, to touch it, even as the flames and smoke intensified around her. As she made contact with the jar, a burst of energy flared through her, up her arm and down her spine, and she was frozen, trapped in the energy surging through her. Her entire body seemed consumed by the electric energy. She saw the jar burst open and the glow escape from it, before she was thrown backwards and the world went black.

"Nah, never-mind Felspoon. You know who I'd like to meet? Charlie Chaplin. I've heard he's great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go and see Charlie Chaplin?" She picked up the phone as she circled the console, knowing she was babbling, fearful of stopping to think what was happening. "Shall we? Charlie Chaplin? Charlie Chester, Charlie Brown. No, he's fiction, friction, fiction, fixen, mixen, rixten, brixton—" She drew in a gasping breath as she finally stopped the flow of words. She pressed her hand to her head, trying to catch her breath, as the Doctor moved closer. She couldn't bear to look at him. "Oh, my God."

She cringed at the sadness in his voice as he asked, "Do you know what's happening?"

"Yeah." She could feel the neurons misfiring, knew which parts of her brain were shutting down, overwhelmed by the Time Lord consciousness inside her. All that knowledge, burning up inside her.

"There's never been a Human-Time Lord metacrisis before now. And you know why."

Tears stung her eyes. "Because there can't be." She began fiddling with the controls, avoiding looking at him. "I want to stay." Please.

" Look at me," he said, and when she didn't, he repeated, "Donna, look at me."

She looked up at him, her whole body trembling. "I was gonna be with you... forever." She couldn't leave him, not like this, not now.

He whispered, "I know."

"The rest of my life... travelling... in the TARDIS. The Doctor-Donna." She could see it, all of time and space, spreading around them. Everything he knew. Suddenly she realized what he would have to do. "No. Oh, my God..." He wouldn't, would he?

She tried to back away, but he took hold of her shoulders gently. "I can't go back. Don't make me go back. Doctor... please. Please, don't make me go back." She couldn't. Not to that old life, without knowing him, and all they had seen and done. Without him. She pressed her hand down on the console, desperate to maintain some contact with the ship, with their life together.

"Donna. Oh, Donna Noble. I am so, so sorry." She couldn't bear the sadness she saw in his face. Couldn't bear to know the pain this would cause him. "But we had the best of times. The best." She felt tears running down her face, as he whispered, " Goodbye." He closed his eyes and reached up to press his hands to her temples

As he made contact, she felt a jolt of energy surge up her arm from where her hand rested on the console. "No. No, please! Please! No, NO! No!" She saw every moment with him rush past as he fought to hide away the memories of him, of all they had seen. And just before the blackness overtook her, she felt something else, another presence in her mind, calm and soothing. She felt his arms around her as the darkness won.

The pub was crowded and noisy, and Donna fidgeted in her seat. Her friends were gathered around her, and she should be happy, she knew. She should feel relaxed, and happy to be celebrating the end of the work day. But she wasn't. She felt restless and out of place, even though this was the same pub she and her friends had gathered in for ages now. Veena nudged her shoulder. "You alright?" she asked, as Donna turned to her.

She forced a smile. "Fine, just tired is all," she said, trying to sound cheerful. She traced her finger around the rim of her glass absently.

"Oh – did you burn yourself?" Veena exclaimed, grabbing Donna's wrist and turning it up to face her.

"What?" Donna looked down at her hand. She gasped as she saw a strange, raised pattern on her wrist.

"Ow!" Veena cried, releasing her arm as though she herself had been burned.

"What did you do?" Nerys asked sharply.

"Nothing!" Donna protested. The skin on her wrist tingled and she covered it with her other palm, pressing down. There was something familiar about it, just dancing on the edges of her mind, but she couldn't grab hold of the memory. The feeling of the pattern pressed against her palm made her feel safe and calm, although she couldn't explain why.

"Well, stop it, whatever it is," Nerys said crossly, returning to her conversation. Donna moved her hand and looked down at her wrist again. If only she could remember, she thought. Her temples throbbed with a dull, hot, pain, as they often did when she tried to remember.

"I have a headache," she said quietly to Veena. "I'm going home."

"Alright, but be careful," she replied.

"Yeah," Donna said absently, as she pushed her way through the crowds and out onto the street. That night she dreamt of the stars and of planets in the sky, and of an old-fashioned blue police box.

The next day she went through the motions at work, trying not to look at the mark on her wrist. It was warm to the touch if she pressed her palm over it, but her head ached when she tried to remember its significance. Was it an injury? She just couldn't remember, and she had the nagging feeling that she shouldn't be trying to remember. Not yet, her mind whispered, although that didn't make sense either. She went home after work, not stopping at the pub, and avoided her mother's concerned looks. When her grandfather went out with his telescope she went with him and sat with him in silence, studying the vast expanse of the stars. Her headache seemed to ease as she looked up, and she pretended not to notice him watching her closely.

That night, she dreamt of a tall man in a brown suit. His eyes were heartbreakingly sad as he turned to her. "Donna?" he said, and she woke with a start. The mark on her wrist tingled again and she looked down at it. It was growing stronger, she thought.

Weeks passed, the days blurred together. She went to work and went through the motions, went out with friends, and tried not to think about the strange dreams that faded almost as soon as she awakened. She pretended not to notice her mother and grandfather hovering over her, asking her how she felt. The truth was she was feeling more like herself every day. She didn't feel afraid or lost, but rather calm and safe. She no longer thought her memories were lost forever. She didn't know why she knew that, and she didn't question it, trusting that she was healing, even if she didn't know from what.

The mark on her wrist grew stronger, taking shape as though it had always been a part of her. She wore long sleeves to avoid the questions of her friends, but the truth was the mark made her feel protected. Her dreams grew more vivid, and she no longer awoke with a headache when the tall man in her dreams spoke to her. He was always there now, waiting when she fell asleep, and he seemed less sad somehow.

She was in the kitchen, washing dishes, when she heard it. A strange, wheezing, mechanical sound. Goosebumps rose on her skin at the sound, and she froze, hardly daring to move, as she realized what the sound was. It was him, she knew suddenly, without a doubt. The Doctor. She turned to the window and saw the blue of the police box, the door standing open.

Memories washed over her with a stunning force at the sight, and she stumbled back from the sink. She remembered everything, every moment with him, and the power of it made her knees buckle. She heard the door open and then strong arms around her; heard his voice as he caught her before she could fall.

"It's alright, I'm here, you're safe," he murmured as he lowered them both to the floor, his arms tight around her.

"It's you," she whispered. "Doctor." Memories washed over her and she clung to him, dimly aware of tears on her face as she buried her face in his shoulder, breathing him in.

"Yes, I'm here," he said, his hands moving soothingly over her back as he held her close.

"You came back." She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling his hearts beat, hardly daring to believe he was real.

"Of course I did," he said simply. "How could I leave you?"

She pushed slightly away so she could look at him, confused. "But—I thought I wouldn't ever be able to remember? I don't understand."

He smiled and squeezed her tighter. "I believed that too. But someone else knew better, it would seem." He released her with one hand and took hold of her wrist, turning it up. "The TARDIS."

"The mark? I don't understand—" she repeated. He brushed his thumb over the mark and she shivered.

"The TARDIS gave you a defence mechanism. Better than the one I had given you, by the way, but that's not the point," he added, shaking his head. "She gave you a way to remember, to let you filter out the Time Lord consciousness and keep your own memories, safely. She knew better than I did, it would seem. And she told me when it was safe to come back for you."

A defence mechanism? Clever girl, she thought. "She'll be very smug about that I should think," Donna said lightly, reaching up to cup his cheek with her hand. She rubbed her thumb over his cheek, overwhelmed by the familiarity, and her joy at seeing him again.

He chuckled. "Yes, I should think so. She was more clear-headed than I was." He turned his head to kiss her palm.

"Why do you think that was?" Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears.

He drew her closer against him, pulling her more comfortably into his lap as they sat on the floor. "I think you know very well, Ms Noble."

"Maybe you should tell me, just to be sure."

"Because, I—" He stopped, swallowed hard. "I've been waiting for you...forever." He shook his head slightly. "You're everything to me," he said finally, and kissed her. She clung to him, overwhelmed with happiness and relief. He had come back for her, she thought. They were safe.


	5. Epilogue

They stood in the sunlight of the garden planet, Donna in a long, flowing dress, and the Doctor in his brown suit, only half-listening as the officiant read the words of the wedding ceremony. Donna clasped the Doctor's hand and looked up at him as he beamed happily down at her, and she heard the TARDIS humming happily in the back of her mind. She could see the blue box from the corner of her eye, off to one side of the clearing. The archway they stood under was draped with flowers, but Donna was truly aware only of the Doctor standing before her, holding her hand.

On cue, the Doctor shifted his grip, sliding his hand up to grasp her forearm, and she mimicked the action, turning her wrist so the pattern the TARDIS had left there pressed against the matching mark on his. She felt energy flow between them, just a slight surge, as the officiant gently tied the ceremonial rope around their joined arms, signifying the bond they had created.

As they recited the vows they had prepared, Donna felt the link between them mature and grow.

"When I first met you, when you dropped – quite literally-- into my life, I didn't dare hope that you would come to be the person to be my partner, to make a family again." He looked down at their linked arms, and Donna blinked away tears. "I don't deserve you, and I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy, for as long we both live."

She squeezed his arm more tightly and drew a breath to try to steady herself. "You've made me happier than I ever hoped to be, and I promise to spend the rest of my life being your partner and wife, and sharing all the happiness and sorrows that are ahead of us." She finished in a whisper and he stepped closer to her. She felt his strength flowing to her through the bond.

When he slipped the simple gold band onto her finger, she smiled at the memory of the other ring he had placed there to protect her, so long ago. And when he drew her closer for the ritual kiss, she thought she had never been happier.

Later, when he carried her through the doors of the TARDIS, laughing and unable to stop kissing each other, the TARDIS hummed with happiness. The Doctor set her down gently next to the console, but drew her closer for another kiss. When they broke apart, breathless, he asked, "Well, Ms Noble, now that we're well and truly married, what do you say we get started on the 'family' part of the TARDIS' plan for us?"

"Well..." she began playfully, imitating his usual tone. "It's possible that we've already started on that." .

"What do you mean—" his eyes grew wide, and she grinned at him, happy tears threatening in her eyes. "What? You're?—"

"Yes. I mean, I think so, I can't be sure yet. I wanted to wait until after the wedding to say anything."

He slipped one hand to cover her stomach, and she placed her hand over his.

"I love you," he said, finally, his voice shaky.

"I love you more," she replied, and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Impossible," he said, bending to lift her into his arms again. She let out a whoop of surprised laughter as he carried her back to their room. The TARDIS lights dimmed as he carried her through the doorway, and she thought the hum of the ship was very self-satisfied indeed.

_Fin_


End file.
